


when there is a lull on the battlefield

by quensty



Series: you’re knotted up inside your skin [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, the part of me that still stans klance: i bet u thought u saw the last of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 10:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quensty/pseuds/quensty
Summary: Keith swallows. “Not that it’s not great to see you, but you should get going.”“Are you sending me away? If you are, people will start whispering.Trouble in paradise,you know.”Keith swings his foot over the chariot door. “Then don’t look so disappointed.”





	when there is a lull on the battlefield

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RMSRheia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RMSRheia/gifts).

> i know what u’re all thinkin, and i can explain.
> 
> kyla has been asking me to continue this since i posted the first part a year ago, and this is as far as i’ve gotten. i’m unlikely to be able to go unravel it any further before the school year starts, so here it is! a kinda sequel! this is for kyla’s enjoyment only.
> 
> if u follow me, u’ll notice some of this [i posted during julance.](https://cleromancer.tumblr.com/tagged/clero+writes) i don’t have an explanation for that.

Rolo catches Keith just before the parade begins and says, “So it’s you,” as if Keith’s the one that’s cornered him at his chariot, strips of sheer fabric spilling around his elbows.

He’s from District 4, and Keith spares a brief moment to notice his stylist has used Rolo’s strong jaw and dark skin to their advantage: curls pushed each way, a faint smell of salt, and a costume resembling sea glass.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re Takashi Shirogane’s little brother, aren’t you?”

“That’s what they say.”

Rolo’s mouth slants up. “Right,” he murmurs, amused. “You’re the talk of the town, you know. Everyone’s wondering how a shiny thing like you managed to get thrown in here with the rest of us.”

“I’m the male tribute from District 12.”

“Of course, but why are you _ here _?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your name shouldn’t have been in that bowl the first time around, but it was and no one has really thought to bring it up. Don’t you think that’s interesting?”

Rolo’s smile is slick and easy, the kind that anyone else might start leaning towards. Except Keith is who he is, so he doesn’t. Instead, he inches backwards and looks away. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have.

“Not really,” Keith says, voice even.

“I think it’s plenty. I like secrets, you know,” he adds, low, “if they’re worth my time. What do you say, Kogane?”

“I’m an open book. If you’re trying to ask me something, Rolo,” he says, “just say it.”

“Wow,” says a new voice, a hand dropping to Rolo’s shoulder in a friendly squeeze a moment later, “don’t you just hate it when you run into someone you weren’t expecting to see?”

Rolo turns under Lance’s hand and meets Lance’s bright smile with a pointed stare. “As far as I know, this isn’t your chariot, either, McClain.”

“Very true.” Lance nods to the left, where they can all see Nyma leaning against a pillar. “You’re partner is looking a little lonely, though.”

Rolo’s eyes are empty when he smiles. “All right, McClain,” he says. “I can take a hint.”

He nods, gives Keith one last lingering stare, and leaves.

Lance watches him go, then faces Keith.

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to know all my secrets.”

Lance smiles, a real, genuine smile. “He’ll have to get in line.”

“Please. As if I’m the mysterious one.”

Lance doesn’t say anything, but the amusement stays in his eyes. He looks more relaxed than he has in the last four days, as if they’ve finally managed to close themselves off from the cameras and all that’s left is each other.

Keith swallows. “Not that it’s not great to see you, but you should get going.”

“Are you sending me away? If you are, people will start whispering. _ Trouble in paradise, _you know.”

Keith swings his foot over the chariot door. “Then don’t look so disappointed.”

***

They’re the most honest in the dark.

That’s why when Lance rushes through Keith’s door, his heart in his mouth, to see Keith scrambling with his bedsheets, soaked in sweat, and telling Lance, “It’s—it was a nightmare. I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” Lance says back, “Don’t be a moron.”

(Lance still feels blood on his hands, most days, that he can’t wash off no matter how many times he stands at the sink, scrubbing until his skin is breaking open. He still smells the artificial taste of saltwater, still—_ hears _those things at night, with their gaping mouths and eyes like oil, eyes that he recognizes because he shot an arrow through their chest not half-an-hour ago—)

There’s nothing ‘fine’ about it, and Lance doesn’t regret saying so, not here, not with Keith looking at him, silent and bright-eyed.

“Wait,” Keith blurts, when Lance turns back towards the door. They lock eyes just as Keith licks his lips, hesitant. It’s funny, sometimes, to see Keith’s little nervous ticks. During the Games, he’d only ever looked ready to go up in flames, burst at the seams like a phoenix, ochre-colored and hot to the touch. “The dream—I was dreaming about you.”

Lance blinks. “That’s a hell of a thing to say when you woke up screaming.”

“No, I mean—do you remember, by the lake, when we were in the cave?” 

Lance does remember. It was when he told Keith about his family for the first time, feverish and delirious and scared. He’d thought he was going to die there, with his hand on Keith’s face, so he’d said everything he could dig up, every small detail he could think to share—Luis never liked the feeling of grass on his bare legs; Veronica used to practice catching things by their handle in the backyard, before she passed the age limit; his mom always smelled like sunshine, like coming home.

“Yes.” 

“I want you to know that I’m going to protect that.” All the color is gone from Keith’s face. “You’ve spent all your time protecting me, Lance, and I—I _ need _you to stop. I need to do this.”

“I can’t.” Lance nearly chokes on the words, wincing. He didn’t mean to say it, doesn’t know why he did—he could’ve easily lied, could’ve agreed and continued to do so anyways—but as soon as it comes out of his mouth he knows it to be the truth. There’s no way to take it back. “Keith, I can’t do that.”

Keith blurts, “_ Lance _!” like it tears out of him, just as Lance puts his hand back against the door, just as he’s decided he can’t listen to another word.

Lance stops, risks a glance. Keith says, “Will you stay with me?”

Lance breathes. “Yes.”

Keith makes room, puts his back flat against the wall so Lance can climb in under the sheets. His chin brushes Lance’s collarbone, and it goes through him like a contact burn.

_ Will you stay with me _, Keith asks, over and over again in the back of his head, wilting with uncertainty. As if Lance could ever say no to him, as if the fact that he already handed Keith the most fragile, most transparent piece of him doesn’t mean something. As if Keith doesn’t make Lance honest, as if that doesn’t faze him.

_ Stay with me _, Keith can say, does say, will say.

_ Yes _ , Lance candoeswill. _ Always _.

***

Allura grabs Keith by the shoulder. “I haven’t made my point yet. Not to you, so say it.”

Keith wrenches his arm back. “Say what?”

“Listen, like it or not, we’re stuck with each other again, so you might as well get this off your chest.” 

Allura wasn’t Keith’s mentor. She never had any right to tell Keith what to do and what not to do, not technically, except for the fact that she was the youngest Victor in history, and Lance trusted her, and Coran respected her, and Shiro liked her.

The Princess of the Capitol, adored and admired. Intelligent, beautiful, poised, young, cutthroat.

_You two are more alike than you think_, Coran told him once. 

_ Is that so, _Keith said, voice dry.

Coran smiled. _ There’s a reason you two can’t help but circle each other. _

Silence passes, and it hits Keith like a heat wave. They’re the same fucking age, Keith reminds himself. He shouldn’t have to watch his goddamn mouth. That was Lance’s job.

“I told Coran, I told _ you _,” he says, seething, “to save Lance. Lance was the mission.”

Allura pinches the bridge of her nose. She sighs. “I know.” 

Keith exhales, bracing himself. “All right. Now you.”

Allura has the decency not to fake confusion. Instead, she catches his gaze, readjusting her weight like a boxer in the ring. Then she throws the punch: “I can’t believe you let him out of your sight.”

Keith doesn’t let himself flinch. He lets it hit him full force. “I know.”

“You have to stop this temper tantrum,” Allura tells him. “Do you think I want to be here, Keith? I don’t want to be here, but I am because Lance is still there. Do you understand? He’s there, and I’m not giving up on him.”

“Stop,” Keith cuts in. “I wouldn’t—don’t finish that thought. I’ll be dead before I leave him.”

“Then act like it. You’re not dead. Do something.”

“I don’t know _what,” _he snaps._ “_There’s nothing for me to do.” 

Allura smiles. “Play to your advantages, Keith Kogane.”

***

The first time Keith sees Lance after arriving at District 13, it’s on the television.

He’ll think about how the world has a funny way of repeating itself. The first time he laid eyes on Lance was on an old tablet, the image blurry and prone to stalling.

He remembers he couldn’t tear his eyes off Lance’s clothes; they were the color of wine. Capital colors. He hasn’t seen Lance wear it since.

Now, Lance is in a high-collar purple button-up and answering questions in some fancy, well lit room in the Capitol building.

His expression is completely blank, with that good-natured glimmer in his eyes he’s so good at faking. There’s a silver pin on his cuff. It catches the light when Lance adjusts in his seat, all limbs.

“Jesus,” Hunk murmurs next to him. He says Keith’s name, too, but Keith isn’t listening. He’s too busy watching the screen and balancing on the razor edge between relief and ice cold fear.

The interviewer asks him, “Was this all a plan, Lance? The country wants the truth, and we all know your word is worth its weight.”

It’s meant to be a lie. No one knows about Lance’s talent for acting better than the Capitol, and there’s maybe no one else who knows how to play the game just as well.

What they don’t know is that Lance, at his core, is shaped by honesty. He only lies when he has to. He only lies when there’s cameras on him, when a Peacekeeper has a gun trained on him where the audience can’t see.

“Keith.” Hunk grabs him by the biceps, blocking his view of the screen, though that doesn’t mean Keith can’t hear the murmurs that go around the dining hall, or the exact moment the interviewer leads Lance in calling for a cease fire, and what feels like all of District 13 goes up in flames. “It’s all scripted. It’s not him. But he’s alive. That has to count for something, right? It has to.”

“It counts for everything,” Keith says. He breaks out of Hunk’s grip, turns on his heel, and practically runs towards the exit. He has work to do.

***

They’re getting shot at.

All of them are still soaked from the sewers, their boots slipping against the tile as they sprint around corners. Keith hears a bullet fly past his ear. A few others ricochet off the walls. 

Even worse is the slow, grinding noise under his feet as if the floor is something alive, and it’s rearing its head.

It sounds like the earth splitting, Keith thinks as he shouts for everyone to keep moving. The crack of bullets behind them start to die out and Keith purposefully does not imagine why.

It sounds like the earth opening its mouth to swallow them whole.

Lance and Keith are the last ones to reach the edge, the rearranging tiles close at their heels. They end up skipping their last step and leaping shoulder-first to break the fall.

Through the dust, Keith can make out the large rotating blades that are breaking up the remaining bits of cement. It’s an army of them across the entire basement floor. One of them catches on Keith’s boot sole. 

Strong hands curl around Keith’s biceps, forcing him to his feet.

“Keith.” It’s Shiro’s voice, urgent. “We have to keep moving. _ Keith _,” he snaps, “on your feet.”

“I’m going.” Keith’s throat his dry. “I’m going.”

But just as he starts jogging again, he hears, as if from a distance, Allura shout: “_ Lance _!”

Keith stops, turns full-circle. Lance still hasn’t moved.

“Lance,” he breathes out, then, louder, “_ Lance _!” and sprints the wrong way. Away from the doors, towards Lance.

That’s when Keith realizes Lance isn’t struggling to stand; he’s writhing, uncontrollable.

“Lance. Get up,” Keith is saying, barely keeping his voice level. Distantly, he notices his voice has taken on the same tone Shiro used on him. He grips Lance by his jacket so he doesn’t have to see them shake. “Lance—_ Lance, _ we have to go,” he snaps, but over him, Lance won’t stop gasping: “Leave! I can’t. Just _ go _. I’m a—can’t you see I’m—this is all—”

Keith switches his hold to Lance’s face. His fingers dig too hard into Lance’s cheeks, but they don’t have time for this right now. Keith can’t worry about being gentle.

“Look at me,” Keith bites out. When Lance doesn’t, Keith jerks his face sideways. “Lance, look at me.” 

Lance’s expression is awful, twisted, mouth half open. It reminds Keith of things he doesn’t like thinking about. 

Keith swallows. “I need you to stay with me. Are you listening to me, Lance? Stay with me.”

Sunrise, sunset, death; some things don’t change. There’s some baggage you never stop carrying. 

“I don’t have anywhere else to go but with you,” Lance says, unflinching, mindless, out-of-breath.

“All right.” Keith licks his lips and swipes his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone. He inhales. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> if u liked it, feel free to hmu @[quensty](https://quensty.tumblr.com/) or @[cleromancer](https://cleromancer.tumblr.com/)! if ur into that


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